


Howling Outside Your Door

by nobetterlove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fist Fights, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Will Graham, Professor Will Graham, Smut, Surgeon Hannibal Lecter, True Mates, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: Content to spend his days on the surgery floor, Hannibal is tasked to present emergency room policy to a Cognitive Science class. He's somewhat reticent, but a single whiff of air changes everything. The professor, Will Graham, is an enigma. A dark bruise covers his right eye and the ripe burnt-sugary sweetness is tainted by a tang of suppressants. How much can finding his true mate really change Hannibal? And when it comes to darkness, where does acceptance lie?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 299





	Howling Outside Your Door

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> I got an anonymous prompt on tumblr for a/b/o dynamics - since I live for AUs, I took that and ran halfway across the world with it. I enjoyed making up this verse, so I hope you guys do, too. 
> 
> Hozier has been on the brain lately - I listened to It Will Come Back a lot throughout the writing process. It seemed fitting, somehow.

For what felt like the twentieth time, Hannibal questioned Bedelia’s intentions. As the head of emergency surgery, the last thing he wanted to be doing was delivering lectures to undergraduate students. There were at least three interesting surgeries up on the board that his hands ached to be a part of – instead, he got to regale the next generation of slackers with emergency room policies on psych references. The clearance to share some of his favorite horror stories felt like the only bonus of the situation. 

His alpha status and education level meant nothing to his dean of medicine – when she said jump, Hannibal overcame the animal need to put her in her place and asked how high. After the initial (brief) struggle of working under a beta superior, Hannibal figured out the system and did what he could to stay on top (or, as close to it as he could get). Becoming the queen bee’s right-hand man came with a lot of perks – but played against him often, too. His presence in a Johns Hopkins classroom evidence enough. 

It’d been some time since his last trip to the university that taught him so much. Many of Hannibal’s fondest moments took place outside the teaching hospital and in the classroom. The surgery halls were where he perfected his craft (both on and off the surgery table) and realized his lot in life – the classroom kept him sharp and fed his obsession for knowledge. In a different life, he might’ve found a home within one. Though busy, and often chaotic, hospital life brought him genuine contentment. His position gave him status and access to some of the finest tools and greatest minds in the world. 

The fond thoughts carried him through the rest of the drive with a more put together attitude. Hannibal spent lots of time around medical students and enjoyed watching information click in shapeable minds. Having to leave the comforts of his surgery hall brought about the irritation; it would do him good to remember the distinction. 

Cognitive Sciences shared a building with the medical school, so it took Hannibal no time at all to find his way to the lecture hall. He arrived ten minutes before the class was meant to start, hoping to catch up with the professor briefly. Walking in the door, Hannibal stopped mid step, the man at the front of the classroom capturing the entirety of his attention immediately. 

As a pureblood alpha, the concept of true mates was a reality, the genetics pumping through his veins absolutely perfect for one person and one person only – their melding one of nature’s veritable works of art. His parents were true mates, alpha and omega that were made specifically for each other. In his many years of fine tuning his sense of smell and distinguishing emotions from actions, Hannibal never let the idea pass across his mind, despite it being a birth right. No smell called to him the way his father used to describe his mother’s scent – “like all the best things,” his father said, “like home.” 

Hannibal still remembered the way his father looked at his mother when he talked about it – the depths of his heart and soul radiated in his eyes. 

Having never felt the feeling himself, Hannibal tried his best to ignore it – mates, courting, finding his other half – none of it was worth his time, not when his career and hobbies filled in all the holes a connection like that created. 

Until he walked into Professor Graham’s classroom.

In an instant, apricot, oak, woodsmoke, and flambéed sugar became the single source of greatness, scents that, earlier that morning, Hannibal had no personal stake in. Except apricots. Hannibal loved the simplicity and versatile nature of them. At the lead, apricot’s sweet nectar and its overlying tangle with soot and outside created an intoxicating concoction. The entire world shifted a little, the veil in front of his eyes gone in an instant; the years of ignoring all others finally made sense. 

Hannibal let himself take another long draw of the deliriously delectable scent; each note being categorized until the slightest hint of metallic suppressants finally hit him. The bouquet of aromas was hypnotizing, almost enough to forget the unwelcome tang – almost. It took an extra second to school his features – a sort of displeasure that wasn’t explainable shaking him, throwing his center of gravity off with one fell swoop. The new feelings his alpha was selfishly absorbing clawed against him, desperate to eradicate the scent from his mate’s skin – clarity of scent meant fertility and good health, an omega in peak condition. 

“Professor Graham,” Hannibal started, clearing his throat in an attempt to get the smell out of his head – or out of his sinuses, at the very least. 

The man turned at the sound of his voice, his nostrils visibly flaring. A part of Hannibal wanted to smile with victory but stopped short when he noticed the purple bruising covering the professor’s upper right cheekbone. The imprint of a knuckle sat in the middle of it, the burst blood vessels the most apparent in that area. The wonderfully colorful imprint stood stark in its contrast to the man’s pale skin. 

Without thinking about it, Hannibal started to reach out, the pulsing need to protect and provide and take care of this stranger, a person he just met, winning just long enough for Graham to pull back in discomfort. The blue color of his eyes flashed a darker shade in warning. 

He started to apologize, the words forming on his lips and close to delivery before the omega (in disguise, if the suppressants said anything) beat him to it, a schooled look of control and professionalism settling across his features. 

“Doctor Lecter, right? I’m Will Graham, doctor too, but of the Ph. D variety,” the professor, Will, said – the tone of his voice rich and commanding, only the slightest shutter in it as he spoke; Will commanded his omega well, despite the presence of his true alpha. 

“Hannibal is fine. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Hannibal answered, his hand sliding into the space between them, its abortive path losing its awkwardness now that there was a reason to touch. 

“Will for me, then. It’s good to meet you too, Hannibal. The usual professor who gives this guest lecture is away on maternity leave – I’m glad we were able to fill the spot with someone who looks at this topic from a different perspective.” Will slipped his hand into Hannibal’s as he spoke, their palms touching, fingers gripping in the customary squeeze and retreat. 

Hannibal wanted to hold on longer, feel the rhythmic pulse of Will’s blood under his fingertips, but his odd behavior earlier wouldn’t stand for it – the idea was to get Will to want to see him again, not run away screaming. Reluctantly, he let go, the smallest of sighs leaving his mouth. 

“Ah, yes – Alana Bloom. She studied psychiatry during my time as a resident here; she was our go-to on the floor when we didn’t want to deal with the higher ups. I hope I can live up to her standards.” They shared a conspiratorial look, mirth heavy in Will’s eyes. Alana was the epitome – of what, Hannibal didn’t know, but the fact remained; she was whip smart and extremely beautiful. 

“She’s in a league of her own,” Will remarked, his shoulders shrugging. His face lost some of its earlier tension the more he talked. “Have you been in surgery long? Bedelia didn’t say much, other than the fact that she was sending her most trusted workhorse.” 

Raising his brow, Hannibal packed that statement up, putting it into a safe place for later perusal. It was always so interesting to really see how others saw him. In a world where perception meant everything, being privy to other’s expectations gave him an edge – a certain gift of refining his person suit to fit him and his carved-out place in the world the best. 

He felt himself grin, the thought of his omega (even if he didn’t know it yet) wanting to know more about him made his alpha sing. The tune one he didn’t know the words to, but immediately enjoyed. Like a beautiful aria at the opera or a melodic set piece at the symphony. The animal within him howling louder than ever before. “I’ve spent about ten years in total as a surgeon. Five of those as the head of emergency surgery.” 

“Big shot,” Will joked, his eyes peeking up behind his glasses to gage Hannibal’s reaction. His cheeks dimpled slightly with his amusement. “What drew you to emergency surgery? That’s got to be hectic.” 

“That very nature is exactly what drew me in. The body is the same every time – a liver is a liver, and certain ailments call for a specific treatment. The rush comes from being on the fly, having to recall the basics with negative two seconds to do so. It feels like truly living.” 

“I can understand the feeling,” Will said after a second or two of contemplation, his bruised right cheek twitching slightly. Blue eyes were far away for a second, the professor’s eyebrows pinched in thought. He seemed to get over it quickly, a shake of his head bringing him back. 

“The students are going to start spilling in any minute, so I’ll leave you to your prep. I’ve got coffee in my office after, if you’re interested.” 

Nodding slightly, Hannibal turned to start unpacking, the need to detach and catch his breath pressing now that others were filtering into the room. As he unpacked, Hannibal realized that the classroom was almost completely filled – for a morning class, there were so many interested faces looking at him expectantly. 

His thumb drive hooked up to the laptop connected to the projector easily, the presentation popping up after a password insert and a few clicks. The cover slide was enough to draw a few interested inhales of breath already; a picture of an empty emergency triage room post life-saving event spread across the screen without words or explanation. There was blood and trash, cut away clothes – heavy trademarks of what the worst of emergency medicine looked like. 

From that point on, Hannibal had everyone’s attention. As a prescribing physician, the active part of psych evaluations stopped once the physical ailments were treated, but the patient stayed under his rotational responsibilities until they were physically checked out of the hospital – a concept that many seemed to pay extra attention to. Like most medical treatment, the multidisciplinary nature of it wasn’t widely known. 

After taking a couple of questions, Hannibal brought the presentation to an end with one of the craziest emergency room stories he could remember, the details only slightly exaggerated. 

Despite the success of his lecture and the students’ genuine enjoyment, Hannibal couldn’t seem to keep his mind or eyes off of Will Graham. In his many years of presenting at conferences and meetings, Hannibal learned that everyone needed to feel like the most important person in the room. Eye contact went a long way towards reception and paying attention – yet, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from Will, no matter how hard he tried. 

The focus of his thoughts went back and forth between the beauty of his features and the origin of the bruise on his cheek. Will pulling away like he did spoke volumes – whatever they discussed later, how he got the injury wouldn’t be one of them. The initial seed of interest was already planted, biology doing a lot of the groundwork in that area. Hidden things, those were for Hannibal to gather on his own. 

All alphas liked the chase – and after all this time, Hannibal couldn’t deny his nature any longer. 

Will gave him space to pack up, the professor’s final remarks filling up the space between the end of Hannibal’s presentation and the class time expiring. Like he wanted to himself, Will’s students watched him with big eyes, hanging on every word. It was interesting, seeing someone who appeared to be so reserved, deliver information in a way that captivated everyone’s attention. Regardless of Will’s cognition of it, people focused on his every move with interest. 

Hannibal fielded a few more questions before the lecture hall was completely empty, the last story he told sparking some interest in other comings and goings of the ER. He answered each one patiently, glad to assist these students now that he understood their commitment. It appeared that Will’s students respected him the way they did because he forced them to understand – to step out of the box and really grab the information as tangibly as possible. 

The slightest smile resided on his lips by the time the last person left the room. The surprising enjoyment of the classroom interaction added a nice ending note to a day that already felt successful. Hannibal never expected the complete one eighty of his thoughts, but in the same breath, he never expected to walk into a classroom and find his true mate, either. At this point, he felt ready for just about anything. 

Of course, he should’ve known his mate would be a challenge. To be the equal and other half of Hannibal, his mate needed to be strong willed and independent, able to hold their own in situations that called for quick thinking and fast action. It shouldn’t have come as a shock – any of the interaction with him that followed.

Will gave him a courteous look as he walked out of the classroom, his pace obvious in the way it was meant for Hannibal to keep up. They were late enough that the next round of classes were already in session, so the halls were empty. The silence was surprisingly comfortable, carrying them stride for stride to the door of Will’s office.

Walking into what Hannibal expected to a small space, he felt his lips quirk in enjoyment when he realized that the corner office was big – obviously made for someone of some importance in the building.

Like he was reading his mind, Will shot him a smirk, his arms flexing as he took off his suit coat and the tie around his throat. “I’m the Cognitive Science department chair,” Will said in answer to the silent question. “The office I came from before fit into this one three times over.” 

The heart in his chest slammed into his ribs, Hannibal sure that the adrenaline from his hunts not even this divine. Not only was Will beautiful, he held status of his own, and a decent brain in his head, if the sharp glances and well-timed words said anything. Sass and attitude existed in all the best forms – Will’s wit and ability to use interactional context clues both interesting and indecipherable all at once. Already, Hannibal could see that their time together would never be dull. 

“It looks like Bedelia left out a lot of details for the both of us. I assumed the class I was walking into was like most others, dull and unresponsive – not filled with intelligent and interesting individuals with novel thoughts and ideas,” Hannibal remarked, his eyes trained on Will’s back as he went through the motions of fixing them each a cup of coffee. 

“I have the luxury of working with the upperclassman. Many of the students in the two classes I teach are thesis bound, working with me and a couple other faculty members up to the task. I bring in professionals like yourself to motivate them – to open up their eyes to the idea that everything in life is multi-faceted. People, information, and presentations alike.” The words were said with certainty by a man that believed every one of them. 

For a moment, Hannibal wondered what it would be like for Will to see the many aspects of himself, how open he might be to the idea that boundaries and rules were meant to be bent and reshaped to fit a mold. Nature brought them together for a reason – the idea of a shared darkness like flame to a moth. Hannibal wanted to see what happened when the ignitor struck. 

“It was a pleasurable experience – I am glad to have gotten the opportunity.”

“We’re happy to have you anytime,” Will replied, looking over his shoulder. He extended the second coffee with a knowing glint in his eyes – the look growing more severe as he watched Hannibal take his first sip. 

Interestingly enough, the coffee was made to his exact specifications – a hint of cream and sugar with the added dash of cinnamon. The delectable taste coated his palette, Will’s coffee beans even great in their quality. He wasn’t sure what it meant – Will knowing that piece of him without even asking – but, he liked it; so much that another sip of the liquid was necessary, the heat of it be damned. 

“This is very good,” Hannibal said, raising his cup. 

“The very best,” Will returned, his throat bobbing with his own sip. With a swift move, he leaned against the side of his desk, the position close to Hannibal with just enough space to keep touching off the table without explicit permission. “My dad always said that finding my mother was like jumping from a cliff. When you walked in, it felt like the first sip of the freshest and most satisfying cup of coffee I’ve ever had. I always wondered why cinnamon, and now I know.” 

Tilting his head, Hannibal let the words register, his eyes watching Will closely. The professor made no move to separate the distance or scent the air – the only recognition of the implication of his words resided in the dark color of his eyes; the blue richer and more intense with every second spent in Hannibal’s presence. 

“And why is that, dear Will?” Hannibal questioned, his hands solid around the width of his cup, the digits’ preoccupation one of the only things keeping him from reaching out, pulling what was rightfully his, to his chest to keep there forever. Now wasn’t the time – the alpha in him didn’t get to make the decisions. 

“It’s the base of your scent. Cinnamon, musk, vetiver, and the slightest edge of copper.” For the first time, Hannibal watched Will draw in a long breath, his nostrils flaring and the color of his eyes getting darker still. 

“Under your suppressants, I can smell apricots and oak, campfire and warm sugar, even a bit of wet dog – though I think that’s your clothes more than your natural scent.” Hannibal took a casual pull of his coffee, eyebrows raising. The giant unspoken thing stood between them, the status of who they were to each other. Neither willing to broach the topic, despite knowing it, feeling it – the overt connection too strong already. Yet, the alpha in Hannibal couldn’t step back from the suppressants. The doctor in him felt slightly distressed by the biological effects, as well. 

“It must be true, then,” Wlll muttered, sticking his nose in his coffee cup to cut off the flow of pheromones Hannibal subtly projected into the world. At this point, Hannibal couldn’t control the entirety of his reaction, the biology he kept so deeply buried inside of him fighting tooth and nail to make itself known. Will was too close – the reveal too new. 

“That we’re true mates?” Hannibal pressed on, wanting the question out in the open. “I assume by the way you’re keeping your status hidden behind synthetic hormone, no one knows you’re an omega?” 

“Yes, I think is the answer to that,” Will replied, his eyes blinking slowly at Hannibal’s forward way of thinking and the truths he so easily presented. The professor hid himself in plain sight – a chameleon under the influence of toxic pharmaceuticals and a respectable drive to succeed, no matter what. 

“My co-workers don’t know. I’d like to keep it that way, too. At least until I can’t fight my biology off, anymore.” 

Hannibal nodded in understanding, outwardly compassionate while seething on the inside. While so much of him wanted to grip Will’s neck and force him to submit, the wiser part of Hannibal’s brain knew there were a few things that weren’t going to change if he didn’t practice some patience and let Will come around on his own time. 

Will’s independence was paramount, the entirety of his career built on that fact alone. He held the head position in an important part of a nationally ranked university – ripping away what got him there wasn’t an option. Hannibal wanted a strong mate, one that proudly stood by his side, not meekly behind him. The picture of strength Will created stood high on the importance level for the professor and would continue to do so with Hannibal in the picture. 

With that realization in mind, Hannibal planned his next move – everything he did from here on out needed to be perfect; the pace, his attitude, even the way he let his alpha take the reins. 

“I do not see why anyone else needs to know. Until we mate,” Hannibal said, stopping himself for a second to take a breath at the impact of the word. “You see a physician for your suppressants, correct? They’re safely monitored and you’re feeling no adverse side effects?” 

He didn’t need Will to actually answer those questions – prolonged use of suppressants in any form was terrible for the body; many of them produced psychological symptoms after long duration use. Depending on how long Will kept his nature under the chemical barrier, he might already be experiencing some of them. 

The way he looked down at his feet spoke volumes. Will’s blue eyes refused to meet Hannibal’s, the very tips of his cheeks red from an embarrassed flush – and even that, he tried to hide. As if he could hide his change in smell from the one person biologically meant to recognize it. 

“I’ve been jumping from provider to provider for the past four years. After a certain amount of time, doctors won’t prescribe them without a year’s worth of detox. Until about an hour ago, stepping away from them wasn’t really an option.” Will looked up then, the sincerity and warmth in his eyes the only positive emotion Hannibal could gather. For that, he was grateful for the eye contact. “As for the symptoms – I’ve been dealing with chronic headaches and sleep walking for around the same time.” 

“There’s a reason for that year detox, Will,” Hannibal stated plainly. “The brain doesn’t naturally release certain hormones, anymore. The headaches and sleep walking are mild compared to some of the other possible side effects.” Hannibal set his coffee cup on the edge of Will’s desk then, the freedom of his hands allowing him to reach out; his fingers itching to finally touch. 

“I know.” The defeat in Will’s voice made an unusual pang resonate in Hannibal, the urge to protect increasing tenfold.

Hannibal gripped Will’s wrist after a shared look of permission, the scent heavy there where his heart thumped against the pulse point. Hannibal rested his fingers against the gentle bob of his pulse, counting out the beats merely because he could. “Will you allow me to court you?”

A shudder of surprise rolled through Will’s frame; the anchor Hannibal had on him the only thing keeping him in place. Hannibal knew Will wanted to draw back, to take cover under the ignorance of not knowing Hannibal. Fortunately for them both, that action wasn’t plausible anymore – not when Hannibal could already feel his own heart slow a little to sync with Will’s. 

“Do I have much of a choice?” Will fired back, the last of his self-preservation taking over. 

“You always have a choice, Will. I will not force you.” Hannibal dropped Will’s hand, letting his fingers tangle in the fabric of his slacks, instead. The best way to present himself as approachable was to be so – until Will was his, he planned to take things at Will’s pace (as much as he could, anyway). 

“I’m not stopping my suppressants. Not yet. And when I do, it’s going to be my decision.” A sigh of resignation left Will’s mouth, his arms crossing over his chest, closing himself off. “There are things, Hannibal – that you don’t know about me. When you find out, you might not want me, true mates, or not.” 

Absorbing those words, Hannibal felt a rush of satisfaction wash over him. As the keeper of many deadly secrets, Hannibal was thrilled to know that the chase was on. If Will proved to be someone who could accept Hannibal and his many layers, nothing the professor did could stop the will of nature – not when Hannibal already caught the scent and planned to bathe daily in it. 

“Let me be the judge of that, Will.” 

They shared a look, blue searching deeply within maroon. Whatever he found there was enough to persuade Will, his defensive posture loosening slightly. With a long breath in, Will seemed to make his decision. 

“Okay, Doctor Lecter. Show me what you’ve got.” 

\---- 

They agreed to meet for a meal that Friday, Hannibal’s next day off. The freedom of the day prior to Will’s arrival allowed Hannibal to really do it up, his thoughts turning towards a menu with the ingredients already in his fridge. Being able to provide was an important quality for an alpha to portray – his knowledge in the kitchen gave him an upper hand; Hannibal could hunt, gather, and create art with his offerings. Despite impressing so many throughout his culinary adventure, Will’s approval suddenly meant the most. 

Luckily, the need for fresh meat wasn’t pressing – his upcoming week included multiple shifts in the emergency room as the attending physician, his surgical duties put on hold for the greater good. They were suddenly two doctors down and Hannibal easily volunteered to pick up the slack. Trying to squeeze in a hunt after twelve-hour shifts ranging from agonizingly slow to jam packed, wasn’t viable – not when he had a standard of practice to uphold. Tiredness made him lazy; laziness would get him caught. 

With Will in the picture, the concept of spending any time behind bars left a bad taste in his mouth. Before, his mind palace would’ve been enough – now, despite not truly knowing him, Hannibal had something tying him down, making his freedom and safety paramount. The failure of leaving his omega without an alpha wasn’t an option. 

Other than the occasional text message shared, there wasn’t much communication between them – by the time Friday rolled around, Hannibal felt like he was chomping at the bit to see Will again. The wash of relief that came about on Thursday evening at the end of his shift gave him last minute inspiration – his menu finally falling into place after many, many attempts to do so before. 

Friday swept by in a combination of slow cooking flank, cleaning the house, and nervously anticipating Will’s arrival. He took great care with the centerpiece, happy to step away from it and feel satisfaction. The pomegranates were a dark red that paired nicely with tropical orange lilies and a small calf’s skull. It set a mood and tied beautifully into the dishes being served. 

Around 7 on the dot, Hannibal heard a light knock on the door, the rhythm of it irregular and nervous. Maybe Hannibal wasn’t alone in his anticipation. Looking around the kitchen, he made sure everything was in a resting state or off the burner before taking his apron off and striding towards the front door. 

He took a second to look himself over in the hall mirror, the subtle orange striped maroon waistcoat and trousers were perfectly tailored, the narrowness of his hips on display, the strength of his thighs apparent. The white shirt played in gorgeous contrast with the darker colors, each juxtaposition highlighting his finer traits. Running his hands over the front of his waistcoat and giving it a tug, Hannibal nodded to himself, turned towards the door and pulled it open. 

“Will,” Hannibal said in greeting, his tone breathy. Maroon eyes tracked over him in quick perusal, the sight of taken in facial hair and a bit of product in kinky curls too much to stare at for too long – once he started, Hannibal was sure it’d be hard to stop. The evening was barely just beginning. 

“Hannibal – it’s nice to see you again.” Will’s lips were pulled into a smile, the foreignness of the gesture apparent in his eyes. Though, the blue pools softened exponentially when they walked inside, the noticeable inhale of breath pleasing Hannibal greatly. He made quick work of Will’s jacket, taking in the full effect of his omega. 

Will’s legs were encased in dark gray suit slacks, the fit cut close to the muscle of his legs. The swell of his ass was enhanced by the black belt that cut a trim picture of Will’s hips. A waistcoat the same color as the pants covered his middle, the navy blue of his shirt pulling out the color of his eyes and enhancing the paleness of his skin. It took everything within him to stop Hannibal from pressing Will against the door, burying his nose in the length of his neck to scent and memorize and claim. His omega was absolutely stunning. 

“You look beautiful,” Hannibal settled on, the understatement of the compliment meant to drive the point home. The subtle shift of scent in the air spoke of satisfaction, Will unable to hide his enjoyment of Hannibal’s approval. 

Saving him the trouble, Hannibal gripped Will’s elbow, gesturing down the hall. “You have good timing – I merely need to plate the food and we will be ready to eat.” He used his free hand to push open the door to the kitchen, only letting go of Will when the occasion called for it. “Can I get you a glass of wine while you wait?” Hannibal asked, his hands already moving to pull the cork from the bottle he opened earlier. 

“Sure – I’m not very familiar with the concept, but I trust you. I’m more of a whiskey man, myself,” Will admitted, taking the glass from Hannibal gratefully. He knew enough to stick his nose in the glass, pulling in the scent. 

“It’s a cabernet sauvignon out of Lebanon, beautiful for braising.” Hannibal raised his glass between them, happy when Will returned the gesture. “To us,” he said softly, the tips of their glasses meeting. 

“To us,” Will echoed, his eyes dark in their stare in Hannibal’s direction. The softest of smiles played across his lips, the look breaking only when he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. 

Hannibal barely resisted reaching out to touch, using the excuse of needing to plate to step away and catch his breath. His nostrils were filled to bursting of happy omega, the sweetness ripe enough to cancel out the sting of suppressants. It was mouthwatering and making it hard to think. Tactility always helped – busy hands were hands that could not touch and were greedy only in their intended task. Focusing on the plating levelled him, Will in his vision only slightly distracting. 

Finishing, Hannibal gestured to the door on the opposite side of the kitchen, excitement of Will tasting his food showing in his expression. “Grab your wine, I will show you to the dining room.” 

Will followed him closely through the door, the professor’s breath just barely brushing against the back of his neck. He wondered if Will knew how difficult he was making things – how on edge Hannibal truly felt. The reality of it was, Will probably didn’t; not after years of actively rebelling against himself. Giving in was invigorating and odd. Hannibal’s own behavior shifted rapidly, often times barely out of his control. 

The breath he heard escape Will’s lips at the seating arrangement made the alpha within him want to purr – happiness and contentment were tangible, the spike of sweetness already recognizable. Instead of sitting to his right at the head of the table, Hannibal set them up across from each other, the equality of the gesture almost unheard of. Really driving the idea home, Hannibal moved to pull out Will’s chair. 

“Hannibal,” Will started, his hand finding Hannibal’s on the back of the chair before he sat down. His fingers lingered for a long moment, the swell of blue in his eyes becoming dense. Will’s eyes changed color with emotions like most omegas did. He didn’t say anything – he didn’t need to; his eyes did enough. 

Hannibal pushed in Will’s chair and made a swift exit to the kitchen, breathing in the fresh air. He did a last-minute check of the food, took in another couple long breaths of Will-free air to clear his head, and carried them out to the table. In true Hannibal style, he presented with a flourish, naming off the dish down to the very ingredient 

He kept his eyes glued to Will while he dug in and stared harder when the food passed his lips – a desire to impress pertinent, fueling him in that moment. Will’s eyes closed and the smallest sound slipped from his lips. If it were possible, the omega got more beautiful – the picture he made stunning in its hedonism. On its own, Hannibal’s tongue peaked out to mimic the trail of Will’s over the edge of his own lip.

“This is delicious,” Will complimented, the next bite already in the process of getting into his mouth. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Sustained on Will’s indulgence for now, Hannibal cut into his own dinner, the tenderness of the flank slicing easily under his knife. He wanted to preen, push his chest out in appreciation. Instead, he nodded humbly, taking his first bite of food. 

“Many things. Those I can do, however – I choose to excel at. Being in surgery is delicate but dictated by science and ethics. In the kitchen, I use my skill to create art – flavor and presentation are subjective and flexible. I appreciate the contrast and strive to be good on all ends of the spectrum.” 

“How long have you been cooking, then? Ten years in surgery, a lifetime in the kitchen?” Will asked. He continued to eat with fervor, even as he spoke. 

“I spent most of my childhood hungry. The second the opportunity became available, I made a home in the kitchen.” 

“That sounds eerily like my upbringing. I actively avoided the kitchen, instead. I hope that’s not a deal breaker – toast is sometimes a disaster.” 

A hearty laugh fell from Hannibal’s chest – the depth of sound something Hannibal wasn’t even aware he was capable of. Will looked at him in surprise, his eyes flashing. 

“It is more than okay, Will – I will enjoy the kitchen enough for the both of us. You can watch, if it makes you feel better.” 

The conversation continued like that throughout the rest of the meal. Will talked a lot about his academic journey, how books and knowledge served as an escape from the mundane of always being the new kid – always having to adjust to fit in. His brain was a special instrument, clued into emotions and facts like it came naturally to him. 

By the time Hannibal could pull himself away, their dishes were empty, the cloth napkins used throughout dinner sitting on top of the plates for some time. Lingering didn’t happen often at his dinner table, Hannibal aware of his image and the comfort a good host could provide. Will seemed content to sit in the hard oak chair, his finger spinning around the lip of his glass. 

“That was truly amazing, Hannibal. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.” 

“We are not done quite yet. I thought we might take dessert in the study. I have a fine scotch that will end the meal on the right note.”

Will looked dubious for a few seconds, his fingers fiddling more readily with the empty wine glass. Hannibal wondered if he were contemplating the amount of alcohol he already consumed, or maybe the amount of control he had left the same way Hannibal did throughout the evening. His plump lip pulled distractingly between his teeth while he considered. 

“Sounds good – I haven’t had a good glass of scotch in ages.” Will shot him an easy smile, the white of his teeth glinting in the light. He got up when Hannibal did, reaching to take up his own dish. 

“Allow me. I will let the dishes soak while we talk,” Hannibal cut in, stopping Will before he could lift a finger. He shouldered the kitchen door open, holding it just long enough for Will to come through it. The dishes went into the sink sprayed with a dish soap cleaner; the smell of concentrated lemons heavy in the air. Pulling the mousse from the fridge, Hannibal handed one to Will, an indulgent smile on his face. 

“I thought I could not go wrong with chocolate,” Hannibal remarked, leading them down the hall to the study, the room by far one of the most comfortable in the house. A fire was stoked from all day use, so the air was warm and homey – the mood of the room perfect. The embers of the fire gave off an orangish hue, the color delectable against Will’s skin. 

They each took a seat on the couch on opposite ends, their bodies turned toward the other. Will ate like someone starving, even something as decadent as chocolate mousse. His lips attacked the spoon, the entirety of his mouth taking in the bite. Hannibal found himself making slow work of his own dessert, the spoon loose in his hand. His indulgence was in front of him, the rest of their gluttony just dangerous extra. 

Hannibal felt himself better able to focus when Will wasn’t eating, their dessert dishes on the coffee table, their hands occupied with half a finger of malt scotch. The space between them narrowed down somehow, their knees almost touching with every shift and move. Hannibal so desperately wanted to reach out and touch, the now yellow bruise on Will’s cheek a dark shadow he wanted to explore. 

“How would you feel if I kissed you?” Hannibal questioned, bringing the space between them down to nothing. Their sides pressed together – the crystal tumbler of liquor basically forgotten. In their nearness, Hannibal smelt their meal, the rich dark chocolate, and the biting sweetness he already associated with Will. The desire to scent him roared through Hannibal’s veins, the show of propriety and constraint the only thing holding him back. Though Will didn’t move away, he made no move in the affirmative, either. 

“Will you be able to stop at just one?” His eyes were flashing back and forth between Hannibal’s eyes and mouth – the indecision one of his own making, a half-assed effort to fight against the inevitable. There was a fumble, the sound of the hard glass settling on the edge of the table, then a smooth hand on the back of Hannibal’s, Will tracing the veins and knuckles, up his fingers and across his nails. 

Forcing himself to remain still, Hannibal tried hard not to breath. The collection of stimuli felt like a test – one he desperately needed to pass. Ever the researcher, Will’s trials were to support a hypothesis, each one important in his observation of it. Reigning in on decades of outsmarting everyone, Hannibal nodded his head, turning his hand over to feel Will’s palm against his own. 

“If that’s what you want of me. I often fantasize about how you taste – if the essence of you is as sweet as I imagine it to be. If one is what you want, one is what you will have.” Hannibal turned in his seat, using his free hand to grip Will’s face. His thumb traced the line of Will’s stubble, then across the bone of his cheek. 

Lifting his head, Will leaned in, brushing the tips of their noses together. “Just one, then,” Will whispered, his fingers tightening around Hannibal’s hand. His eyes drifted shut, the omega giving Hannibal the last inch to do with what he pleased. 

Hannibal tightened the grip of his hand on Will’s cheek, using the leverage to tilt his head slightly. He gave himself the freedom to take a long breath, inhaling Will’s scent deep into his lungs. Waiting a beat, enjoying the static buildup of anticipation, Hannibal closed the remaining distance and slotted their lips together. He felt his skin prickle, Will’s little moan of delight electric in its effect. 

His one kiss was indulgent, steady in its pressure and intensity. Hannibal kept their lips pressed together until the taste of Will covered his skin, the curve of his lip memorized in its shape and feel. When he pulled back, Hannibal kept Will close, using his thumb to trace over kiss-red lips. Their noses brushed for a second longer, both touching just for the sake of it. 

Will blinked his eyes open, the depths of them dark, almost eclipsed by the black of his pupil. His chest heaved with a long drawn in breath, then he shifted, the man all the sudden out of Hannibal’s grip. “I think I should go now,” Will stuttered out, his cheeks pink, his lower body angled away in an attempt to hide his interest. 

With a deep breath in, Hannibal found it in him to nod and get up, turning his back long enough for Will to shift and adjust himself. Hannibal lead them out of the study, his footsteps heavy down the hall to the front door. He helped Will into his jacket, his hands lingering in greediness, Will’s warm skin hypnotic in its call to him. “When can I see you next?” Hannibal asked, his hand on the door. 

Will stuffed his hands into his pocket, his shoulders slumping. “It’s exam week next week for me – I probably won’t have any freedom until next Saturday. Are you free?” Will kept his eyes down, his words spoken into the ground. The shift of mood was interesting, so different than just moments before. Hannibal rolled with it, glad, at least, for the distraction, 

“I will be. I usually start my night shifts Saturday, but I can make a few arrangements. I hate to get repetitive, but would another dinner suffice? There are so many dishes I wish to share with you.” Hannibal thought of his night planned to hunt later that week, the freshness of the organs perfect for a Saturday night dinner. A little weight shifting here and there, and Hannibal would find himself with the night off. 

Ducking his head, Will nodded, taking a hand out of his pocket to rest on Hannibal’s forearm – his fingers lingering. “It sounds great. I’ll text you when I get the chance throughout the week. Thank you for tonight.” And then, he leaned forward to press his lips against Hannibal’s cheek, Will’s lips warm against his late in the day stubble. Grinning slightly, Hannibal nuzzled against him, taking in one last deep breath. 

“The pleasure is mine. Please be safe getting home.” 

With an answering nod, Will walked out of his sight, Hannibal standing in the doorway until the bright headlights were no longer in view. He lingered in the warmth there for an extra couple of minutes, the hormonal driven alpha absolutely preening inside of him, pride and happiness threatening to settle under the surface of his skin. In an instant, the exhilarating thought of being in trouble played across the forefront of his mind. 

Hannibal let the highlights of the night play over in his head while he took care of the dishes and put away the leftovers. He smiled at the memory of Will’s face that first moment of tasting, the shape of Will’s lips and that tiny little moan. The idea of that sound against his neck or in his ear after a particularly hard thrust manifested itself, driven away only by ironclad will. They weren’t there yet and thinking about it in any fashion felt like the ultimate tease. 

After finishing his cleanup in the kitchen, Hannibal made his way upstairs, the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand grabbing his attention on the way into the bathroom for a shower. His chest flared with warmth when he saw the text from Will, the professor thanking him again for the night and letting him know he was home – safe and sound. Hannibal fired off an answer, bidding him a good night. Before he could type anything else, he turned the phone over and walked into the bathroom. 

The next few days past by without much turbulence. Hannibal kept up his time in the emergency room, taking an extra couple shifts whenever he could to ensure the day off on Saturday. Most nights were uneventful, filled with small accidents and sick kids. Until Friday rolled around. Late into the evening, a group of gentlemen came in carrying a very wounded alpha between them. 

His head drooped and the parts of his body not covered in shirt were riddled with bruises. Upon seeing it, Hannibal got him into a bed at once, the nurses disrobing and cleaning him up with a well-practiced efficiency. Scouring the lengths of the man’s skin, he recognized the pattern in the one he remembered from Will’s cheek – the roundness of knuckles unmistakable. After setting up a pain medicine drip, Hannibal walked back into the waiting room, gesturing for the friends that brought him in.

“Can you tell me about what happened?” Hannibal asked, his eyebrows pinched together. They shared a look, each man with eyes wide with fear. Whatever happened, talking about it wasn’t an option. Understanding that, Hannibal backtracked – “did someone do this?” 

“Yes, but it was entirely voluntary. Going up against The Raven Stag is a privilege,” one of them said, the man a beta in both build and smell. The man next to him, taller and obviously alpha, smacked his chest. 

“The Raven Stag?” Hannibal questioned, his mind on fire with ideas and possibilities. When neither of them spoke again, Hannibal turned away without another word. With the patient asleep, Hannibal took another look, tapping into his other senses as best as he could. Past the smell of antiseptic, Hannibal smelt sweat and fear, motor oil from being in a car – and underneath it all, a recognizable oaky sweetness. 

Eyes bulging, Hannibal made quick work of finding the man’s personal belongings, his wallet amongst the pile of stuff thrown haphazardly into the hospital issued bag. At least the leather wasn’t covered in blood. Opening the flaps, the answer to his question fell from the wallet. On it was the current day’s date and one other a week later. A time and an address were written in chicken scratch under the dates. Aside from that, there were no other details or distinguishing characteristics. 

Hannibal quickly wrote down the time and address, sticking the note to the front of his personal journal. 

It was too late to make it to the one that evening, so he put the wallet back into the bag, replaced it on the shelf, and made his final rounds. There were many things to think about and all of them revolved around Will Graham. 

Saturday morning and afternoon flew by in a cacophony of wired thoughts and attempts to rein himself in and create his promised food masterpiece. Thursday’s hunt procured a healthy kidney he turned into a rich stew with fingerling potatoes, a dark gravy, and vegetables. It didn’t scream fancy, but the complexity of flavor made up for the lackluster presentation the dish promised. 

Will seemed delighted by the food choice and ate heartily through two bowls, his cheeks red from the warmth of the dish and the happiness a full belly could bring. He talked openly about his week, the many adventures of exam week proving to be much more interesting than Hannibal thought. The only time Will balked was the mention of the previous night, his face pinching slightly when Hannibal asked about it. 

“I spent some time with a few old friends of mine. We get together every now and again,” Will muttered, the spoon in his mouth acting as a buffer for untrue words. His eyes never reached Hannibal’s; the avoidance apparent to both people. Will shot him a pleading look, his eyes begging for the subject to be dropped. 

Determined to make the night good, and not lose control over the situation, Hannibal let it drop, his attention shifting to the mischievousness in Will’s eye. Though he knew it for the distraction technique that it was, Hannibal let the seduction happen all the same. Will’s pheromones fluctuated throughout the rest of the meal, and when they settled onto the couch, Will wasted no time at all settling into Hannibal’s personal space. 

“I’ve thought about how your lips felt on mine every day since the last time we were here,” Will whispered, his hand moving down the center of Hannibal’s chest, over the buttons of his waistcoat, until they settled on his belt. Nimble fingers got the clasp undone and his pants open before Hannibal registered anything other than the tantalizing words. 

“As have I,” Hannibal replied, the hand closest to Will wrapping around his hip, his restless fingers tracing along his sides. “Your smell gets toasty when you’re aroused, the sweetness of your taste enhances it. I would gladly drown in it if you let me.” 

Sharing a look, Will’s eyes pulsed with want before their lips were pressed together, his omega stealth in his attack. While he brushed his tongue out to trace along the seam of Hannibal’s lips, his hands were digging into open pants, long fingers wrapping around Hannibal’s length without missing a beat. There was a second where Hannibal wanted to rip himself away and roll Will under him – the need for control raging through him.

He fought it with a couple of deep breaths, passing his passion into the kisses, instead. Will moved out of his reach, the man practically reading his mind. He shifted onto his knees, settling between Hannibal’s thighs. His hands ran up the inside of his legs, fingers settling against Hannibal’s impressive bulge. 

Will wrapped his hand around Hannibal’s cock again, this time squeezing hard over his slowly swelling knot with no intention of letting go. Hannibal watched him guide the wet tip to his lips, the pink of Will’s tongue flashing briefly before disappearing around the crown. Will teased at his slit and frenulum with swift licks and hard sucks. The glorious torture lasting until he opened his mouth wide and took Hannibal down to the circle of his hand.

His fingers tightened for a second, then let go so Will could stuff the remaining length into his mouth – the tip of Hannibal’s cock hitting the back of his throat. There was a brief gag reflex, then a gradual relaxation of the muscles, Hannibal overwhelmed by the control and the feeling of Will letting go. He forced his eyes to remain open, despite the pleasure trying to slam them closed. 

The enthusiasm in which Will licked, sucked, and swallowed his cock down was enough to thicken the knot at the base of his cock further, the girth of it swelling with each passing second. As sexy as it was, Hannibal wanted the first time he knotted to be deep inside Will, not in the warm heat of his mouth. He pulled and patted at Will’s shoulder until the omega was looking at him, lips covered with spit and red as can be, the corners quirked in question. 

“You okay?” Will asked, his hand swiping across his mouth carelessly, the move only smearing the spit across his cheek, the glisten of it in the firelight scandalous. 

Hannibal shifted until he was able to pull Will into his lap, warmth and slick and omega overwhelmed him, Will’s arousal sweet in the air. “Yes, amazing, in fact. Your mouth is wonderous, I was going to finish too soon.” Hannibal let his hands wander as he spoke, his fingers slipping under Will’s shirt, the fabric riding up in all the excitement. Will pressed into his touch until Hannibal went to trail his fingers over ribs – he hissed and pulled away, the darkness in his eyes taking on a stormy quality. 

“Can I see it, at least? You could have broken ribs.” Hannibal reasoned, his hand slipping from Will’s shirt without being asked. The sugary sweetness of Will’s scent took on a charred quality, his shift in mood evident. 

“It’s – I’m fine, Hannibal. I lightened my dose of suppressants and my reflexes weren’t what they needed to be. You wouldn’t understand. Not yet, anyway.” Will crawled out of his lap, the reluctance in his movement speaking volumes.

No wonder he scented Will with more clarity than ever before – the purity of his scent increased ludicrously with just a shift in dosage. He couldn’t imagine what it was going to be like when Will wasn’t under the synthetic influence at all. 

“Let me see you, Will – I understand more than you think,” Hannibal tried, his body shifting forward, the modesty of his pants hanging wide open surprisingly one of the last things on his mind. He moved to get up but stopped when Will waved him off. 

“Not yet. I’ll see you Friday, Hannibal,” Will said, his back retreating before Hannibal could make his limbs work. It didn’t register until the door closed and the sound of it was no longer echoing that they didn’t make further plans. The mention of Friday all Hannibal needed to know as he thought about the date he copied down the night before. 

\----  
Will’s hasty departure lit a fire of intrigue within Hannibal, his mind on high alert for anything and everything that clued him into Will’s struggles. The bruises and the man that laid unconscious in his emergency room spoke of physical violence, a tactile nature that didn’t make a lot of sense for the put together professor that Will portrayed himself as. On the other hand, Will said he understood the feeling of making split second instinctual decisions – in that case, what brand of darkness did he battle?

For most of the week, Hannibal busied himself in his work. Finally out of the emergency room rotation and back in his surgical position, the days past quickly, one surgery moving to the next. When he got a free second, Hannibal split his time between thinking about Will’s delectable scent and the mystery of the man himself. By the time Thursday came around, he could no longer distract himself – the need to see Will won out over all other rational thoughts. 

A couple of hours before his shift was due to start, Hannibal placed a couple of fancy sandwiches, the prosciutto of his own creation, into a cooler in hopes of using lunch as an excuse to spend a little extra time with the omega. He timed his arrival to coincide with the break between Will’s classes, the whole thing rather perfect.

Until, of course, Will’s absence made itself apparent when he walked into the lecture hall. Instead of the sweet undertone of burnt sugar, Hannibal registered lavender and maltose – the telling scent of Alana Bloom. 

“Hannibal, what a surprise,” Alana remarked, a surprised warmth in her voice. She turned to face him with a small smile. “What do I owe the pleasure?” 

Tamping back the spiral of disappointment, Hannibal tilted his head, painting on a smile. “I was hoping to find Will Graham, actually. We have struck up something of a friendship since my presentation a few weeks ago,” Hannibal admitted, a unique feeling of not-rightness passing over him at the downplay of their relationship. 

Alana’s eyebrows drew together, an intrigued look on her face. While Hannibal easily kept court with people surrounding him, he didn’t often seek others out – like most things, sociability added to the bulletproof nature of his person suit. She didn’t point that out, though; the keenness of her observation showed enough in the frame of her expression. “He’s not here – I’ve been covering his classes since yesterday.” 

“Ah, well – I suppose I should have confirmed before just stopping by. Please extend my well wishes the next time you talk to him.” Hannibal nodded his head in a departing gesture, his overactive mind and the worry that bubbled in his stomach putting social niceties and propriety on hold. When the rest of the world was privy to their relationship, his sudden exit might make sense. 

Thinking quickly, Hannibal recalled the address on his desk at the hospital. There was just enough time to get to his office and take a look around before he needed to get back for his shift. The food was basically forgotten as he placed the cooler into the backseat and got into the car. His brain was everywhere during the drive – Will’s absence and the lack of communication between them worrying. Between the mystery and a small amount of hurt from being left out, Hannibal had to work very hard to keep the overwhelming need to protect and control from taking him over. 

When he got to his office, Hannibal pulled the sticky note from his journal, typing it into Google Maps without any hesitation. His brow lifted as he zoomed in to find that the building was empty and had been that way for at least a couple of years. That lead led him nowhere quickly. 

With a quick search of his memory palace, Hannibal recalled the beta saying something about a raven stag – his eyes lighting up as a new piece of evidence slotted itself into place. Exiting the map application, Hannibal pulled up a web browser and searched ‘Raven Stag – Baltimore’. While the webpage loaded, he fiddled with a scalpel on his desk, his fingers slipping across the dull edge of it over and over. 

Maroon eyes lit up when a plethora of news stories popped up about the illusive Raven Stag. Many of them centered around injured people with no other details to share other than the name and a brief description of animalistic fighting prowess. Hannibal clicked through all the articles he could find, the pictures of battered and bruised alphas, betas, and even the occasional omega, getting more impressive by the second. If Will was this Raven Stag, his work was majestic – even if the barrier between dancing with darkness and totally crossing over into it hadn’t quite been breached. 

Relaxing into his chair, Hannibal let a bit of the worry wash away. Though he still felt curious about Will’s absence in his classroom, he felt confident enough to let Will reveal himself the way he wanted. Instead of fretting himself into a panic for the rest of the night, Hannibal let the images of destruction he knew belonged to Will settle in the lobby of his mind palace, the delicate intensity of them enough of a distraction to get him through the rest of the night and well into the next day. 

Hannibal pulled into the address he looked into the previous day with curious eyes, the desolate nature of it keeping him alert. He looked around for the presence of others, but only saw empty and abandoned buildings. There were a few minutes where he thought he might be in the wrong place – until he saw a group of hopped up knot-heads heading into the side entrance of the warehouse. Waiting a couple of seconds to follow, Hannibal drew in long breaths of clean air – the alphas’ presence said wherever he ended up would be pheromone heavy.

By the time Hannibal made it through the door, he didn’t need any help finding where he needed to be. The chorus of chants and loud shouts were hard to miss – he followed the noise all the way to a wide-open room packed full of people. In the dead center of the crowd, two men were circling around each other. 

It wasn’t until Hannibal pushed his way through the crowd that a few things registered. Will was easily recognizable, despite having heavy black kohl ringed around both of his eyes. The tribal headband that pressed his curls down explained the nickname. Antlers and black feathers adorned the leather. 

A physical rage not his own could be felt to Hannibal’s core, Will’s borrowed emotions thrumming around the ring – probably only tangible to Hannibal. The biggest surprise, however, came when he pulled in a long breath, the thirst for Will’s scent more than enough to filter out the rest of the smell in the room. A feverish sweetness was wrapped into the burnt sugary oak scent that normal existed. 

Hannibal recognized that scent immediately – an omega close to heat… his omega close to heat. 

It took everything in him to stop at the edge of the ring, the alpha in him wanting nothing more than to step in and protect his omega. Who, up until Hannibal’s point of entry in the room, was taking his opponent down one punch at a time. He continued to move effortlessly around, his weight shifting from foot to foot in perfect rhythm. 

Then, his eyes must have caught sight of Hannibal – Will suddenly stopped moving and picked his nose up, scenting the air. Like the air deflating from a balloon, the fight in Will faded fast. In less than a second, the tide of the fight changed, a punch flew through the air, Will’s opponent hitting him square in the jaw with a stiff fist. Blood flew in an artful spray upon contact. 

Not ready for the blow, Will took a couple of steps backwards, his eyes glazed with confusion and pre-heat madness. With Hannibal in the room, Will’s omega was taking the reins, all of Will’s other facilities going by the wayside without thought or control. 

It was obvious in the way Will rolled his shoulders and brought his hands back up that he was trying to fight against the call of nature. His nostrils flared and with every deep breath, the omega within seemed to be winning. He took two more hard punches, one to the cheek and the other to the stomach – the second of which had him curling over, his face in perfect position for the kick his opponent delivered. The crowd around them roared with applause, a chant of ‘down with the raven stag’ loud in the circle around him.

In all the time Hannibal knew Will, he kept himself on a tight leash, both the darkness of the man and the animalistic nature of his alpha. Watching Will take hit after hit, it was maddening and quickly pushing Hannibal close to an edge he didn’t have the greatest ability to step away from. Not with Will’s pheromones rampaging, the burnt, sickly sweet smell of heat and the harsh nature of omega in distress a deadly cocktail. 

His snap, when it did happen, did so gradually. Hannibal lost all sense of auditory recognition, the blood in his veins rushing away from everything that wouldn’t help with the fight to come. The maroon color of his eyes faded into black nothingness; his pupils dilated for maximum vision – everything in the room suddenly sharp with clarity. The last shard of control snapped when Will whimpered, his head thrown back in pain. 

Without another thought, Hannibal stormed into the ring, his body quickly standing between Will and his opponent. He spared a brief look in Will’s direction before shifting his attention back to the other alpha in the ring – his eyes honing in with razor sharp focus. There was a beat of confusion, the alpha taking just a second too long to read the change; Hannibal struck hard in the other’s moment of distraction. The satisfying sound of fist connecting with bone brought a primal sound from Hannibal’s chest – the predator and alpha finally joining teams after so much separation. 

There was no mercy as Hannibal delivered punch after punch, his movements swift and calculated – each one dispatched with maximum efficiency. If the man didn’t delight in aggression so much, Hannibal’s beast certainly would’ve made up the difference. The pride he felt in protecting his soon-to-be mate painted the victory with an added shade of greatness – after years of suppression, his alpha finally got to be free, free to run and free to take what was rightfully his. 

A clarity set in when the man below him stopped moving – his fists were covered in a blood and the coil of satisfaction ran hot, the harshly dragged in breaths of his challenger like sweet melodies to his ears. The noise of the crowd started to set back in, murmurs and sounds of worry cluing him in to how much control he truly lost. Letting go felt like the single hardest thing he ever had to do, but Hannibal did it all the same, his brain reminding him of the distressed and hurt omega behind him. 

“We are just alike.” The words were babbled, barely audible with Will’s lack of focus. 

“We need to get out of here,” Will murmured a moment later as Hannibal leaned down to check him out. He started to palpate but was stopped by Will’s hands and sharp words. “It’s about to be chaos if we don’t get out of here. I was stupid to fight, so close to going into heat. You stepping in for me breaks all sorts of unspoken rules.” 

Hannibal nodded in understanding, his senses still in overdrive from adrenaline and rampaging hormones in reaction to Will. His hands went under Will’s knees and around his shoulders, Hannibal picking him up bridal style with as much finesse as possible. The omega was burning up, his skin coated in sweat that only highlighted the quickly purpling bruises all over him. Ignoring the whimpers for the time being, he used the crowd’s distraction to slip out without being noticed. They were all gathered around the alpha that probably would not make it. 

Out of the craziness of the crowd, Will’s scent hit him like a freight train. The clarity of it was so different than before, the cooling undertone took over where the metallic tang of his suppressants once existed. The smoky sweetness clouded the air and made it incredibly difficult to walk, let alone carry Will and get them back to his home. As if reading his mind, Will reached a cut-up hand to cup Hannibal’s cheek. “Get us home. If we don’t make it, we’ll be stuck wherever we end up. I want our first time to be in a bed.” 

Like they were electric, Will’s words spurred him into action – his higher processing abilities quickly overtaking the monster within; he could control himself long enough to make his omega comfortable – would control himself, if it was the last thing he did. His grip on Will and his resolve tightened just enough to get the professor into the backseat and himself behind the wheel, getting home his only priority. 

Will tried to help Hannibal, his groans of pain were chocked off, like he knew every noise he made was a spear right to Hannibal’s heart. The ride back was relatively quiet because of that, both alpha and omega desperately trying to keep their shit together. A part of Hannibal figured Will wanted to categorize his last trial of data, anyway – the look of pride in the omega’s eyes when Hannibal came out of that fight victorious not hard to miss, despite everything else happening. 

Hannibal felt biologically primed to recognize those looks – Will’s pleasure was his pleasure, especially when Hannibal’s actions were the cause of it. 

The car was barely in a parked position when Hannibal threw his seat belt off. He climbed out of the front seat the second they were no longer moving. Hannibal made quick work of getting Will back into his arms and in the house – the need to hoard the delectable scent for his own enjoyment making him greedy. Despite that, his actions were geared towards Will’s safety (and no other alphas encroaching on his territory – there’d been enough of that already). He bypassed the study and the kitchen, heading straight up the stairs to deposit Will directly onto the bed. 

“Take everything off,” Hannibal said, the no nonsense tone forcing Will into compliance before all of the words were even out of his mouth. “I want to make sure there’s no severe damage or internal bleeding – you took quite a beating.” 

Though his movements were slow, Will got his pants down and off, the black joggers drenched with sweat and slick – the smell pungent in the room now that adrenaline and epinephrine were no longer in the driver’s seat. Instead, cognition of his mate in heat took precedence over everything. His focus was on taking care of Will – the danger of the situation no longer relevant. 

While Will finished stripping down, Hannibal stepped out of his own clothes until his boxer briefs were the only thing that remained. Enough brain power registered for Hannibal to grab the first aid kit and some painkillers before letting the haze of heat and rut overtake him completely. With every second that past, Hannibal felt himself getting closer to a complete animal take over, Will’s oncoming heat triggering his rut faster than ever before. Aside from his first couple as a boy, Hannibal couldn’t remember ever losing control like this. 

Will was reclined on the bed when Hannibal walked back into the room, the black kohl around his eyes looked smudged, like he tried to get it off but couldn’t. The darkness enhanced the blue of his eyes, though – the depth of color there like frozen water, a blue so clear, Hannibal wanted to dive into it. His headpiece with the antlers was sitting on the chair; the accessory the only article of clothing Will paid any respect to. 

If it weren’t for the blossoming bruises that darkened by the second, Hannibal would’ve dived into the bed, covering the delectable omega with his entire being – his gaze and body placement just asking for Hannibal’s weight to press him down and into the mattress. Sucking a deep breath in through his mouth, Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed, instead, beckoning with his hand. 

“Take a deep breath in for me – do you have any sharp pain with your exhale?” Hannibal questioned, his patience running thin. The fact that he was still talking, coherent enough to ask questions – it spoke volumes about his control. 

Going through the motions, Will did what he was tasked to do – his focus torn between Hannibal’s command and the man himself. His eyes were quickly glazing over, his heat coming on quickly. “No – everything aches, but I can breathe just fine,” Will mumbled, his hands subconsciously reaching out for Hannibal. 

Though it killed him to brush the touch off, Hannibal continued to touch and palpate over Will’s wounds, most of them superficial, despite their dark color. The only worrisome hits were the ones to Will’s face – his lip was split and puffy, his right eye twice the size of what it should be. He ran the pen light back and forth between Will’s eyes, satisfied when the beam was followed, and pupils dilated accordingly. 

“How is the headache? You are not exhibiting any concussion symptoms, presently.” Hannibal cupped Will’s cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing over the puffiness of Will’s eye. 

Will leaned into the touch, his eyes closing with the slightest of purrs leaving his chest. “I’m too close to my heat to really gage where everything’s at, Hannibal. Just keep touching me – I like that, a lot.” 

“As you wish, dear Will,” Hannibal replied softly, his free hand cupping Will’s other cheek, long fingers digging into sweat-muggy curls. “Before you can no longer answer – I want to make sure you are choosing this; choosing me.” It was his last chance to do things right, to give Will all the evidence he needed of Hannibal’s prowess as an alpha and mate. 

“You still want me? After that atrocious showing?” Will tried to joke, a wince slipping from his mouth at the attempt to smile. The split on his lip cracked a bit, a trickle of blood welling up across it.

Unable to stand it any longer, Hannibal closed the space between them and pressed their lips together. Will’s breath was magnificent, and the taste of his saliva was an elixir of the gods – the blood on his lip adding spice to the feast. His nostrils flared with a deep inhale of oxygen and the sweet scent of alpha and omega coming together. Notes of cinnamon wrapped around the burning sugary-sweetness; the richness of their biological mixing heady – his head spinning with it. 

The need to breath forced them apart, both of their chests heaving with a delicious desperation when they finally pulled away. “Your uniqueness is glorious, Will. It calls to me – the sound is unlike any other. Like the way our scents mingle in a perfect cacophony, your darkness matches mine. I am your alpha, my dear Will. Nothing will change that.” 

A swift shift in Will’s scent overtook the room, the change almost instant – Hannibal’s words like the key to a door Will locked tight so long ago. The time for thinking was over, Will was finally in full blown heat; nothing but satiation important any longer. Will’s nostrils flared, the omega’s only answer a whimpered “alpha” and the tight clench of his hands on any part of Hannibal he could reach. 

Red flared across Hannibal’s vision, his own body finally losing the battle and giving in to biology’s need. Rut and the associated symptoms overtook him – his muscles were clenched, each sense tuned into the man below him, and every nerve ending on high alert. His mouth watered, nostrils flaring in selfish need to drag in as much of Will as he could. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Hannibal grabbed Will’s hips, pulling him flat onto the mattress. Barely cognizant, but wary of Will’s injuries, he tried to keep himself from pressing down too hard – but he wasn’t sure of his success. With the thought of having every inch rubbing against Will, Hannibal rid himself of his underwear, a gruff sigh leaving his lips. 

Hannibal started to pepper kisses all along Will’s skin; he began at heat warm cheeks, across moist lips, and down his jaw until the call of his mate’s scent was too much to ignore. He buried his nose in Will’s neck, the tip of it running along his scent gland – the thickness of the smell practically coating Hannibal’s skin. With the flat of his tongue, Hannibal licked across the soon-to-be marked spot, the taste better than the finest wine. 

Hips bucking up into him were a subtle reminder of the needs of the omega below him, Will’s skin so warm that his touch felt like liquid fire on Hannibal’s skin. It took monumental effort to tear himself away from Will’s neck, the delectable scent something he wanted to sit there and sop up, each taste an aperitif to the next morsel. Will helped him along by wrapping his legs around Hannibal’s hips and grinding against him, slick sliding along sensitive skin. 

A roar ripped from Hannibal’s chest, Will’s wordless plea and the tangible excitability of his omega’s yearning for him – it was all so overwhelming. Wiggling his hand down between them, Hannibal traced his fingers over the length of Will’s erection, then further down, past his balls – fingertips stopping to tickle across his perineum. When he reached Will’s hole, the muscle was already relaxed and drenched in slick; a combination of things so arousal heavy, Hannibal bit into his lip to stop from whimpering out loud. 

The tips of his fingers teased along Will’s rim; every measured touch highlighted by a breathy moan. Will pressed up into his touch, his legs tightening around Hannibal to pull him closer – the space between emptiness and being stuffed full was slowly approaching zero, and Will knew it. Hannibal kept his head about him enough to ease two of his fingers in to the first joint, the width of them stretching Will’s hole. 

His body knew Will was more than ready – sliding home wouldn’t be a problem. Yet, Hannibal wanted to savor the feeling, his fingers pulling out suddenly so he could run them between his lips and sample Will’s juices. The flavor of his beautiful omega enhanced times a hundred in that intimate of a place. 

When the ability to put more than two brain cells together returned, Hannibal planned to make a feast out of tasting every inch of Will – the picture of his face wet with spit and slick a tantalizing one. Realistically, the need to come together and finalize their bond came first – Will needed a knot and Hannibal planned to give him one. 

Hannibal made steady work of working Will open, first two then three fingers stretching and scissoring muscle and soft tissue, preparing him for Hannibal’s size. They never talked about the time between Will’s last heat and this one – but his knot wouldn’t be comfortable, no matter how careful they were. Desperate hands and a whimper had Hannibal looking up – lust blown maroon staring into deep blue. 

“Mate me, Hannibal. I need you, alpha. Alpha,” Will practically babbled, his eyelids fluttering and heavy with emotion. The shared a breath, a sort of calm washing over them, the mixing of their scents like an aphrodisiac. After a long pause to simply enjoy the moment, Hannibal pulled his fingers out of the tantalizing heat, moaning in time with Will at the sudden loss. 

Sucking in a deep breath did nothing to help the swimming of his head. As Hannibal wiped the slick on his fingers over the hardness of his cock, he lost further tether on his control. He roughly gripped Will’s hips and shifted just enough to get the omega onto his belly, the beautiful man moving into position without any further prompting. Draping himself over Will, Hannibal dropped his head between Will’s sharp shoulder blades, his eyes closing. 

With a long breath and a steady press forward, Hannibal entered Will – the slick slide to the hilt absolutely divine. He bit down into his bottom lip to stop a guttural scream from slipping out. Through the whole process of courting Will, control was his only ally. Now, there was none to be seen and Hannibal felt fuller than ever because of it. There was something intoxicating in the act of letting go. 

Will, in his hormonal wash of impatience, pressed back into Hannibal almost immediately; giving neither man time to adjust to the exquisite stretch. Every inch of Hannibal’s skin prickled with desire, heat and rut and a genuine want for the man below him driving up the intensity, pulling emotions from him that never existed before. 

In order to give himself a second to calm down, Hannibal straightened out his posture, his hands gripping Will’s hips in a tight grasp, trim shoulders up and back, his chest long and straight. In this new position, a little more of Hannibal slipped inside Will’s wet heat, the tip of his erection right up against Will’s swollen prostate. He pulled back slowly, maroon eyes glued to the slick collecting on his pulsing length; with each second that past, Will got pulled further under, his body helping make the process as easy as it could. 

Tightening his fingers on Will’s hips, Hannibal drove forward, the beginning of his knot already starting to catch on the omega’s stretched rim. Will spread his legs wider to accommodate him, the gorgeous man loud and upfront in his need and pleasure. His body flexed and shifted with movement, Will giving as good as he got. 

“Jesus, Hannibal – you feel so good inside of me,” Will spluttered through moans and high-pitched whimpers. He balanced on one hand, his other reaching back to grip onto Hannibal’s sweaty skin. “I’ve wanted you to mount me since the first second I saw you. Fuck – it’s much better than I imagined. I need you to take me, alpha. Make me – make me yours.” By the last few words, Will was close to incoherent, his eyes completely glazed over from Hannibal’s deep thrusts and concentrated drills directly against that most pleasurable spot. 

Will’s words gripped at his insides, the impact of them on more than just the alpha surging inside of him. Hannibal felt his chest tighten a little – the thought of not only breaking his loneliness, but gaining a treasure like Will, was intensely foreign; and yet, so dear to him already. The need to clench his eyes to stop tears from falling had him picking up the pace of his hips, overwhelming emotions surging him on. 

As his orgasm drew nearer, Hannibal became more cognizant of his alpha instincts, his body practically bent in half now – Will’s scent and the anticipation of changing it clouding his senses. With every thrust, his knot caught more and more on Will’s rim, the pleasure of it surpassing all else. In a desperate attempt to ground himself, Hannibal pulled out and flipped Will over. With a show of grace, Hannibal pressed back inside and sealed their lips together before the omega even noticed.

Desperate arms wrapped around Hannibal’s shoulders, narrowing the space between their bodies to nothing. Will broke the kiss, his head turning until each breath ghosted along Hannibal’s ear. There wasn’t much finesse left between them, Will arched up into every stroke, driving his sticky cock against Hannibal’s hairy stomach – the shift in the omega’s position causing Hannibal to hit deep and press savagely against Will’s prostate. 

“I’m going to cum – oh, alpha!” Will practically screamed, his voice raw from loud groans and Hannibal’s name repeated over and over. His walls rhythmically clenched around Hannibal, forcing the alpha to orgasm, despite being nowhere close to ready for it. With one final thrust, his knot caught, and Hannibal dug his nose between Will’s neck and shoulder to bite down – his teeth breaking skin right over Will’s scent gland. A burst of unrecognizable flavor streamed into Hannibal’s mouth, the change in him immediate and exhilarating.

The alpha now had an omega – a beautiful soul to protect, love, and share in gorgeously dark things. 

A whimper had him turning his head, Hannibal shouting a second release as Will bit down on his neck, the contact sealing the bond between them. Hannibal’s knot throbbed, every clench of Will’s slick hole around him a tantalizing dose of too much, an oversensitive reminder of the beauty of their joining. Collapsing, Hannibal covered Will head to toe, their sweat and slick and cum and skin mixing in a dirty cocktail of rightness and perfection – alpha and omega together, in all ways possible. 

With a bit of the haze gone, Hannibal only stayed on top of Will for a few moments – the minute his chest stopped heaving, he turned them until their legs were tangled together, both on their sides with little space existing between them. Every move over Hannibal’s knot was a sweet torture, he wasn’t ready for another round, but the feel of Will around him was entirely too superb to not enjoy thoroughly, despite oversensitivity. As they came down, Hannibal kept Will wrapped up tightly against him, their foreheads resting together in closeness. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, a weighted breath falling from his chest. 

Tightening his arms, Hannibal buried his nose in the front of Will’s curls, protecting him, even then. “Will,” Hannibal answered softly, nostrils flaring with his long draw of breath. 

“We’re the same, aren’t we?” Will asked, his hands traveling over Hannibal’s sides restlessly. Just the hint of edge taken off the burn of his heat. “The darkness – I can feel it. In you, between us – it’s so deep, like there’s no difference between where I end, and you start.” 

“In many ways, Will – we are exactly alike. I have mastered my darkness, where you sleep in bed beside yours,” Hannibal stated plainly, their bond truly not allowing him to hide anything, anyway. “I have fed my demon. Gave it a head and a soul. It prowls daily, howling until I satisfy it again. What of yours, Will? Tell me about the Raven Stag.” 

Will stiffened in his arms for a brief moment, his pheromones not enough to stop the man’s natural defense mechanisms. Though it took time, Will eventually relaxed, his head finding its way under Hannibal’s chin. He lightly pressed his nose to the fresh bite. “I’ve always been able to step into someone else’s shoes. Since I was a little kid – barriers between myself and others have been difficult. When I presented, people’s feelings change; the way I processed those feelings changed. I was always odd, but the added bonus of something I couldn’t quite understand took ahold. I tried to control it – keep whatever was inside of me from coming to the surface.” 

He stopped for a second, taking several lungsful of their combined scent. “One day, just before I started my suppressants, I was corned by some out of control alpha. He was radiating rage and irrationality – but also something else, a sensation of enjoyment that felt so good. When the feeling touched my skin, I lost it. I let it take me over and I didn’t come up for air until someone pulled me away from him. I was covered in blood and more powerful than ever before. I started suppressants later that week and never looked back.” 

“So you were able to separate yourself from the darkness by taking it on and letting it rule you for periods of time. Fight nights with the Raven Stag,” Hannibal said, affection and admiration lacing through his tone, appreciation for his omega obvious. 

Though he didn’t want to let him, Hannibal loosened his grip so Will could pull away, the distance between them enough for maroon and blue to meet. “Exactly. I control it until I can’t any longer, then let it have its fill. It was enough, but not anymore.” 

Hannibal reached up with a soft hand, his fingertips tracing over sweat-sticky skin with reverie. “What now? What do you want, Will?” 

The omega leaned into his touch, a subtle purr leaving him. “You, Hannibal. Everything you have to offer.” 

“What does that mean? I have many things to offer.”

“Teach me, Hannibal. I want to know everything. About you. About the things you do. Everything.” 

The truth of his statement registered in Hannibal, his core flaring alive. Hopes for a partner didn’t register, not until that very moment. It was one thing to share a darkness, but a whole other to partake in it in such a way. It took a single thought of the way Will looked, covered in blood, bruised but not broken, to realize the extent of perfection their joining really was. 

There was lots of time now, their bond creating a lasting tether that neither could break. In that realization, Hannibal found true happiness. 

Pressing a kiss to Will’s lips, Hannibal felt a smile bloom across his mouth and cheeks, the sides of his eyes crinkling with it. They shared a beat of breath, then another kiss before Hannibal pulled away, both hands grasping Will’s cheeks. “It would be my pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking it out, guys! I hope you enjoyed my take on this verse. I have some notes written out for more exploration in this universe - if you want to see something specific, mention it in the comments below.
> 
> You guys are the best - I appreciate you spending some time with my brain child. 
> 
> I'm on tumblr (whispersthroughthechrysalis) come join me! <3


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